


Reading The Maze Runner

by Pern4life



Series: Reading the Maze Runner books [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Characters Reading The Books, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Not Beta Read, Thomas is too busy trying to stay alive to date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pern4life/pseuds/Pern4life
Summary: The Gladers plus some strangers find themselves trapped in a room with a cryptic note telling them to read some books. Will they be able to use the information given to them to change things?
Relationships: Brenda/Thomas (Maze Runner), It's one sided for both of them, Kinda - Relationship, Teresa Agnes/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Series: Reading the Maze Runner books [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202378
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction so be nice to me. So without further ado, here is this thing I made.

The first thing that Newt noticed as he woke up was that he was lying on something hard. This normally wouldn’t be surprising, but he could have sworn that he fell asleep in his room. On his bed. The second thing was that it was absolutely silent around him. There was no snoring or shuffling around that was unavoidable when sleeping outside with the rest of the Gladers. This alone was enough for him to open his eyes to see what might be wrong. Alby was busy enough without some problem between the Gladers. It was Newt’s job as second-in-command to make things easier for their leader. Groaning internally, Newt blearily opened his eyes to a strange sight.

  
Newt was surrounded by bodies. Not dead ones he realized after a fraction of a second of panic. They were sleeping.

  
“What the bloody hell?” Newt whispered in bewilderment.

  
Most of them were Gladers. He could see Alby and Minho to his left. The Newbie, Thomas, was near the girl. Chuck was curled up near him. Then Newt noticed the strangers.

  
“Who the bloody hell are you?”

  
Everyone startled at the shout, but Newt was too busy glaring suspiciously at the strangers. There were three of them. There was an olive skinned, dark haired boy to his right, separated from the group. He was looking at the group in fear. He didn’t seem like much of threat, but they had to be cautious. The biggest threat was behind Alby and Minho. There was a young man and an older teenager. The man was Hispanic and looked ready to fight with a crazed look in his eye as he slowly got to his feet. Beside him was the teenager. She was a fierce looking long haired girl. Newt could spot her eyes glancing around the room searching for an exit. It was obvious to him that these two were dangerous. He could see from his peripheral vision that the rest of the Gladers were clumping into a group behind him while the lone boy curled up into a ball.

  
“This shank here asked you a question.” Newt didn’t need to turn to know that Alby was standing beside him.

  
“Now, now, _hermano_ , there’s no need to be hostile.” While the man may have the facial expression of someone who wants peace, his eyes tell a different story. He looked to be itching for a fight. “We’re just as confused as you are. Perhaps we could all sit down and chat.”

  
Newt turned to Alby. While he didn’t trust them, he would respect his leader’s decision. He watched all the thoughts pass through Alby’s face before settling on a stony look.

  
“Alright then, why don’t we start with your names,” Alby said, giving the man a look that dared him to refuse.

  
“Alrighty then. I’m Jorge and this is Brenda,” the man said with a nod to the girl. “We don’t know anything about where we are or how we got here,” he finished with a smirk. “Now, you’re turn.”

  
Alby glared but replied, “I’m Alby and this is my second-in-command Newt. The pudgy kid is Chuck and next to him is Thomas. Potato-nose is Gally and Frypan’s next to him with the beard. And this ugly shank is Minho. Not sure what the girl’s name is. First time any of us have seen her awake.”

  
Everyone turned towards the girl. She showed no open sign of discomfort.

  
“My name is Teresa,” she stated.

  
Alby hummed and turned to the boy.

  
“What about you?”

  
The boy flinched and gave a small squeak. Stuttering slightly on his words, he said, “I’m Aris.” There was a slight pause as he gathered his courage. “Um, do any of you know why I can’t remember anything? You all seem to remember stuff, so why can’t I?”  
Newt turned to Alby with a surprised look on his face. He could see the same question running through Alby’s eyes. Could this kid be a new Glader? But the note said the girl, Teresa was the last one ever. Could there be a different reason for the memory loss? It’s possible. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the Glade or the Maze.

  
Newt tuned Alby out as he started to explain to Aris. Newt started to examine the room that they were stuck in. It was fairly small, with a couple couches facing in a semi-circle. However, the thing that really caught his attention was a window with a view into a beautiful meadow.

  
Thomas, noticing where his eyes were looking, said, “Don’t bother. It’s fake. I tried to open it, but I couldn’t. It doesn’t even feel like real glass. You can’t get out that way.”

  
Newt ignored him, not because he thought Thomas was lying, but because something had caught his eye. There was a folded note on the windowsill.

  
Newt walked over cautiously to the window with Thomas trailing behind him. “That wasn’t there before,” Thomas worded carefully. Newt ignored him as he picked up the unknown note and unfolded it.

_Dear Gladers, Jorge, Brenda, and Aris,_   
_I know you are all very confused and that is why I am sending you this note. I have sent you here because the future is dangerous, and I hope to help you stop it. There are people playing God and making decisions that are not theirs to make. I have sent three books that will give you the knowledge that you need to change the future. Use that knowledge wisely. There is much at stake._   
_Anonymous_

Newt continued to stare at the note as the voices around him began to rise.

  
“Slim it!”

  
All the heads in the room swiveled to look at Newt. He used this opportunity to speak up. “There’s a note from whoever sent us here.”

  
There was a moment of silence before both Alby and Jorge sped over to where Newt was standing. Jorge got there first and ripped the note out of Newt’s hand. Alby and Newt glared at him as he read the note.

  
“They talkin’ about the Flare and the Cranks? ‘Cause I don’t think there’s anything we can do ‘bout that,” Jorge said with raised eyebrows. The Gladers and Aris all looked at him blankly.

  
“Sorry, the what?” Newt asked, trying to be polite.

  
Jorge burst into laughter before noticing that the Gladers were serious.

  
“You’re joking, right? Everyone knows about the Flare,” Brenda spoke up.

  
Before some of the more temperamental Gladers could start a fight, three paperback books fell from the ceiling and landed on Gally’s head. There was silence as all of them stared both at the books, and Gally’s face turning a deep red.

  
“I suppose these must be the books the note was talkin’ about,” Jorge said.

  
Alby snatched the note out of Jorge’s hands and skimmed it over. It wasn’t until Minho cleared his throat that Alby read the note out loud.

  
“Sooooo, dumb question, but will we take turns reading it or are we reading it aloud?” Chuck asked. He blinked confusedly at all the sharp looks he was getting. “What?”

  
Newt rolled his eyes. “So who’s gonna read _out loud_ first?”

  
There was a pause as everyone glared distrustfully at each other.

  
Newt rolled his eyes again. He was going to get a headache if this kept up. “Never mind, I’ll read.” He picked up the books and found the one that seemed to be the first book. “The Maze Runner.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They start reading.

**He began his new life standing up,**

“How do you start a life standing up? Shouldn’t you be lying down?” Brenda asked. Nobody answered her.

**Surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air. Metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor beneath him. He fell down at the sudden movement and shuffled backward on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. His back struck a hard metal wall; he slid along it until he hit the corner of the room. Sinking to the floor, he pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness. With another jolt, the room jerked upward like an old lift in a mine shaft.**

“The Box,” Chuck whispered dramatically.

**Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like the workings of an ancient steel factory, echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth as it ascended, turning the boy’s stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded his senses, making him feel worse. He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone, waiting.**

_**My name is Thomas,** _ **he thought.**

Everyone turned to look at Thomas. “Why’s the story about this slinthead? He already came up. This ain’t the future,” Gally said indignantly. “Maybe ‘cause he managed to kill four Grievers, while you couldn’t even handle one,” said Chuck to an increasingly angry Gally. Thankfully, Alby pulled Gally back from murdering Chuck. “Slim it,” Alby said before turning to Newt. “Keep reading.”

**That… that was the only thing he could remember about his life.**

“What?” Brenda asked. “It’ll probably be explained,” said Newt before continuing.

**He didn’t understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned without flaw, trying to calculate his surroundings and predicament.**

The Gladers stared at Thomas in shock. “You were actually tryin’ to figure what was goin’ on?” Frypan asked. “Yeah, why? It seemed like the natural thing to do.” “I was too busy crying my eyes out to try and figure out what was going on,” Chuck said. The rest of the Gladers did not deny it, but they kept their pride by not admitting it.

**Knowledge flooded his thoughts, facts and images, memories and details of the world and how it works. He pictured snow on the trees, running down a leaf-strewn road, eating a hamburger, the moon casting a pale glow on a grassy meadow, swimming in a lake, a busy city square with hundreds of people bustling about their business.**

**And yet he didn’t know where he came from, or how he’d gotten inside the dark lift, or who his parents were.**

The Gladers all looked down sadly.

**He didn’t even know his last name. Images of people flashed across his mind, but there was no recognition, their faces replaced with haunted smears of color. He couldn’t think of one person he knew, or recall a single conversation.**

**The room continued its ascent, swaying; Thomas grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled him upward. A long time passed. Minutes stretched into hours, although it was impossible to know for sure because every second seemed an eternity. No. he was smarter than that. Trusting his instincts, he knew he’d been moving for roughly _half_ an hour.**

Once again, the Gladers all stared at Thomas.

**Strangely enough, he felt his fear whisked away like a swarm of gnats caught in the wind, replaced by an intense curiosity.**

The stares became even more surprised. Even Gally could not keep a look of bewilderment off his face.

**He wanted to know where he was and what was happening.**

**With a groan and then a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted Thomas from his huddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the room sway less and less until it finally stilled. Everything fell silent.**

**A minute passed. Two. He looked in every direction but saw only darkness; he felt along the walls again, searching for a way out. But there was nothing, only the cool metal. He groaned in frustration; his echo amplified though the air, like the haunted moan of death. It faded, and silence returned. He screamed, called for help, pounded on the walls with his fists.**

Jorge scoffed.

**Nothing.**

**Thomas backed into the corner once again, folded his arms and shivered, and the fear returned. He felt a worrying shudder in his chest, as if his heart wanted to escape, to flee his body.**

**_“Someone… help… me!”_ he screamed; each word ripped his throat raw.**

**A loud clank rang out above him and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. A straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands.**

**He heard noises above-voices-and fear squeezed his chest.**

The Gladers tried to keep their interest off their faces. They wanted to know what Thomas’ first impression of them.

**“Look at that shank.”**

**“How old is he?”**

**“Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt.”**

**“You’re the klunk, shuck-face.”**

**“Dude, it smells like _feet_ down there!”**

**“Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie.”**

**“Ain’t no ticket back, bro.”**

“That’s welcoming,” Teresa muttered.

**Thomas was hit with a wave of confusion, blistered with panic. The voices were odd, tinged with echo; some of the words were completely foreign - others felt familiar. He willed his eyes to adjust as he squinted toward the light and those speaking. At first he could see only shifting shadows, but they soon turned into the shapes of bodies-people bending over the hole in the ceiling, looking down at him, pointing.**

**And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces cleared. They were boys, all of them-some young, some older. Thomas didn’t know what he’d expected, but seeing those faces puzzled him. They were just teenagers. Kids.**

“What were you expecting? Heartless murderers?” Minho snorted.

“Yeah, actually,” Thomas said, shutting up the laughter.

**Some of his fear melted away, but not enough to calm his racing heart.**

**Someone lowered a rope from above, the end of it tied into a big loop. Thomas hesitated, then stepped into it with his right foot and clutched the rope as he was yanked toward the sky. Hands reached down, lots of hands, grabbing him by his clothes, pulling him up. The world seemed to spin, a swirling mist of faces and color and light. A storm of emotions wrenched his gut, twisted and pulled; he wanted to scream, cry, throw up. The chorus of voices had grown silent, but someone spoke as they yanked him over the sharp edge of the dark box. And Thomas knew he’d never forget the words.**

**“Nice to meet ya, shank,” the boy said. “Welcome to the Glade.”**

“That’s it,” Newt said. “Who wants to read next?”

“S’ppose I could,” Frypan said, grabbing the book.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh they're still reading? Book Thomas is overwhelmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the weirdos who are actually reading this, my updates will be super irregular. I may go for months without updating or I might write three chapters in one day. Who knows? Not me.
> 
> OH! I almost forgot. MAZE RUNNER DOES NOT BELONG TO ME IT ALL BELONGS TO THE AMAZING JAMES DASHNER!!!!

**The helping hands didn’t stop swarming around him until Thomas stood up straight and had the dust brushed from his shirt and pants. Still dazzled by the light, he staggered a bit. He was consumed with curiosity but still felt too ill to look closely at his surroundings.**

All the Glader winced remembering, except the ones who think they’re too cool to wince. So basically, only Chuck and Frypan winced.

**His new companions said nothing as he swiveled his head around, trying to take it all in.**

**As he rotated in a slow circle, the other kids snickered and stared; some reached out and poked him with a finger. There had to be at least fifty of them, their clothes smudged and sweaty as if they’d been hard at work, all shapes and sizes and races, their hair of varying lengths. Thomas suddenly felt dizzy, his eyes flickering between the boys and the bizarre place in which he’d found himself.**

**They stood in a vast courtyard several times the size of a football field, surrounded by four enormous walls made of gray stone and covered in spots with thick ivy. The walls had to be hundreds of feet high and formed a perfect square around them, each side split in the exact middle by an opening as tall as the walls themselves that, from what Thomas could see, led to passages and long corridors beyond.**

The Gladers looked proud of their home.

**“Look at the Greenbean,” a scratchy voice said; Thomas couldn’t see who it came from. “Gonna break his shuck neck checkin’ out the new digs.” Several boys laughed.**

**“Shut your hole, Gally,” a deeper voice responded.**

“Yeah, shut your hole, Gally,” Chuck teased.

Alby cut off Gally’s attempt at homicide with a sharp, “Slim it. Chuck, stop botherin’ Gally.”

**Thomas focused back in on the dozens of strangers around him. He knew he must look out of it – he felt like he’d been drugged. A tall kid with blond hair and a square jaw sniffed at him, his face devoid of expression. A short, pudgy boy fidgeted back and forth on his feet, looking up at Thomas with wide eyes. A thick, heavily muscled Asian kid folded his arms as he studied Thomas, his tight shirtsleeves rolled up to show off his biceps. A dark-skinned boy frowned – the same one who’d welcomed him. Countless others stared.**

**“Where am I?” Thomas asked, surprised at hearing his voice for the first time in his salvageable memory. It didn’t sound quite right – higher than he would’ve imagined.**

“ _Boys,”_ both Brenda and Teresa said as the boys all stared unimpressed at Thomas. “What? I thought it’d be deeper.”

**“Nowhere good.” This came from the dark-skinned boy. “Just slim yourself nice and calm.”**

**“Which Keeper he gonna get?” someone shouted from the back of the crowd.**

“A Runner,” Thomas whispered.

**“I told ya, shuck-face,” a shrill voice responded. “He’s a klunk, so he’ll be a Slopper – no doubt about it.” The kid giggled like he’d just said the funniest thing in history.**

**Thomas once again felt a pressing ache of confusion – hearing so many words and phrases that didn’t make sense. _Shank. Shuck. Keeper. Slopper._ They popped out of the boys’ mouths so naturally it seemed odd for him not to understand. It was as if his memory loss had stolen a chunk of his language – it was disorienting.**

Alby frowned. That almost sounded like Thomas was familiar with how the Gladers spoke. That should not be possible. All the other boys had come up with no knowledge. It seemed that there was something different about Thomas.

**Different emotions battled for dominance in his mind and heart. Confusion. Curiosity. Panic. Fear. But laced through it all was the dark feeling of utter hopelessness, like the world had ended for him, had been wiped from his memory and replaced with something awful. He wanted to run and hide from these people.**

**The scratchy-voiced boy was talking. “-even do that much, bet my liver on it.” Thomas still couldn’t see his face.**

**“I said shut your holes!” the dark boy yelled. “Keep yapping and next break’ll be cut in half!”**

**That must be their leader, Thomas realized. Hating how everyone gawked at him, he concentrated on studying the place the boy had called the Glade.**

**The floor of the courtyard looked like it was made of huge stones blocks, many of them cracked and filled with long grasses and weeds. An odd, dilapidated wooden building near one of the corners of the square contrasted greatly with the gray stone.**

“Hey!” “Watch what you say about our Homestead.” The Glader began defending their Homestead. It may be a dilapidated old building, but it was their dilapidated building. 

**A few trees surrounded it, their roots like gnarled hands digging into the rock floor for food. Another corner of the compound held gardens – from where he was standing Thomas recognized corn, tomato plants, fruit trees.**

**Across the courtyard from there stood wooden pens holding sheep and pigs and cows. A large grove of trees filled the final corner; the closest ones looked crippled and close to dying. The sky overhead was cloudless and blue, but Thomas could see no sign of the sun despite the brightness of the day. The creeping shadows of the walls didn’t reveal the time or direction – it could be early morning or late afternoon. As he breathed in deeply, trying to settle his nerves, a mixture of smells bombarded him. Freshly turned dirt, manure, pine, something rotten and something sweet. Somehow he know that these were the smells of a farm.**

**Thomas looked back at his captors, feeling awkward but desperate to ask questions. _Captors,_ he thought. Then, _Why did that word pop into my head?_**

“We’re only keepin’ ya here for your own good,” Alby said.

**He scanned their faces, taking in each expression, judging them. One boy’s eyes, flared with hatred, stopped him cold. He looked so angry, Thomas wouldn’t have been surprised if the kid came at him with a knife.**

Gally grunted. “I should’ve,” he muttered.

**He had black hair, and when they made eye contact, the boy shook his head and turned away, walking toward a greasy iron pole with a wooden bench next to it. A multicolored flag hung limply at the top of the pole, no wind to reveal its pattern.**

**Shaken, Thomas stared at the boy’s back until he turned and took a seat. Thomas quickly looked away.**

**Suddenly the leader of the group – perhaps he was seventeen – took a step forward. He wore normal clothes: black T-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, a digital watch. For some reason the clothing here surprised Thomas; it seemed like everyone should be wearing something more menacing – like prison garb.**

“You’re really set on the idea that we wanna hurt you, aren’t ya shank,” Minho said.

“Yeah?” Thomas said. “It seems like the obvious conclusion to me.”

**The dark-skinned boy had short-cropped hair, his face clean shaven. But other than the permanent scowl, there was nothing scary about him at all.**

**“It’s a long story, shank,” the boy said. “Piece by piece, you’ll learn – I’ll be takin’ you on the Tour tomorrow. Till then… just don’t break anything.” He held a hand out. “Name’s Alby.” He waited, clearly wanting to shake hands.**

**Thomas refused.**

“Yet you shook Newt’s hand,” Alby muttered quietly. He was definitely not pouting. The leader of the Gladers does not pout.

**Some instinct took over his actions and without saying anything he turned away from Alby and walked to a nearby tree, where he plopped down to sit with his back against the rough bark. Panic swelled inside him once again, almost too much to bear. But he took a deep breath and forced himself to try to accept the situation. _Just go with it,_ he thought. _You won’t figure out anything if you give in to fear._**

**“Then tell me,” Thomas called out, struggling to keep his voice even. “Tell me the long story.”**

Brenda and Jorge kept the interest off their face. Aris didn’t bother.

**Alby glanced at the friends closest to him, rolling his eyes, and Thomas studied the crowd again. His original estimate had been close – there were probably fifty to sixty of them, ranging from boys in their midteens to young adults like Alby, who seemed to be one of the oldest. At that moment, Thomas realized with a sickening lurch that he had no idea how old _he_ was. His heart sank at the thought – he was so lost he didn’t even know his own age.**

**“Seriously,” he said, giving up on the show of courage. “Where am I?”**

“Good, ‘cause you weren’t fooling no one.”

**Alby walked over to him and sat down cross-legged; the crowd of boys followed and packed in behind. Heads popped up here and there, kids leaning in every direction to get a better look.**

**“If you ain’t scared,” Alby said, “you ain’t human. Act any different and I’d throw you off the Cliff because it’d mean you’re a psycho.”**

**“The Cliff?” Thomas asked, blood draining from his face.**

**“Shuck it,” Alby said, rubbing his eyes. “Ain’t no way to start these conversations, you get me? We don’t kill shanks like you here, I promise. Just try and avoid _being_ killed, survive, whatever.”**

“That was really not reassuring,” Thomas said.

**He paused, and Thomas realized his face must’ve whitened even more when he heard that last part.**

**“Man,” Alby said, then ran his hands over his short hair as he let out a long sigh. “I ain’t good at this – you’re the first Greenbean since Nick was killed.”**

**Thomas’s eyes widened, and another boy stepped up and playfully slapped Alby across the head. “Wait for the bloody Tour, Alby,” he said, his voice thick with an odd accent.**

“Oi! My accent isn’t odd!”

**“Kid’s gonna have a buggin’ heart attack, nothin’ even been heard yet.” He bent down and extended his hand toward Thomas. “Name’s Newt, Greenie, and we’d all be right cheery if ya’d forgive our klunk-for-brains new leader, here.”**

Alby grumbled.

**Thomas reached out and shook the boy’s hand – he seemed a lot nicer than Alby. Newt was taller than Alby too, but looked to be a year or so younger. His hair was blond and cut long, cascading over his T-shirt. Veins stuck out of his muscled arms.**

**“Pipe it, shuck-face,” Alby grunted, pulling Newt down to sit next to him. “At least he can understand _half_ my words.” There were a few scattered laughs, and then everyone gathered behind Alby and Newt, packing in even tighter, waiting to hear what they said.**

**Alby spread his arms out, palms up. “This place is called the Glade all right? It’s where we live, where we eat, where we sleep – we call ourselves the Gladers. That’s all you –”**

**“Who sent me here?” Thomas demanded, fear finally giving way to anger. “How’d –”**

Jorge nodded. Smart kid. Always get as much information as possible.

**But Alby’s hand shot out before he could finish, grabbing Thomas by the shirt as he leaned forward on his knees. “Get up, shank, get up!” Alby stood, pulling Thomas with him.**

**Thomas finally got his feet under him, scared all over again. He backed against the tree, trying to get away from Alby, who stayed right in his face.**

Aris looked over at Alby, frightened.

**“No interruptions, boy!” Alby shouted. “Whacker, if we told you everything, you’d die on the spot, right after you klunked your pants. Baggers’d drag you off, and you ain’t no good to us then, are ya?”**

“Not to mention it’d suck for me,” Thomas grumbled.

**“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Thomas said slowly, shocked at how steady his voice sounded.**

**Newt reached out and grabbed Alby by the shoulders. “Alby, lay off a bit. You’re hurtin’ more than helpin’, ya know?”**

**Alby let go of Thomas’s shirt and stepped back, his chest heaving with breaths. “Ain’t got time to be nice, Greenbean. Old life’s over, new life’s begun. Learn the rules quick, listen, don’t talk. You get me?”**

**Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help.**

“’M ‘fraid he’s got a point, Greenie.”

**Everything inside him churned and hurt; the tears that had yet to come burned his eyes.**

**Newt nodded. “Greenie, you get him, right?” He nodded again.**

**Thomas fumed, wanted to punch somebody. But he simply said, “Yeah.”**

**“Good that,” Alby said. “First Day. That’s what today is for you, shank. Night’s comin’, Runners’ll be back soon. The Box came late today, ain’t got time for the Tour. Tomorrow morning, right after the wake-up.” He turned to Newt. “Get him a bed, get him to sleep.”**

Alby glared at Newt. “That obviously didn’t happen.”

Newt bristled. “I didn’t tell ‘im to poke around the Homestead. I assumed he would have some common sense.”

**“Good that,” Newt said.**

**Alby’s eyes returned to Thomas, narrowing. “A few weeks, you’ll be happy, shank. You’ll be happy and helpin’. None of us knew jack on First Day, you neither. New life begins tomorrow.”**

**Alby turned and pushed his way through the crowd, then headed for the slanted wooden building in the corner. Most of the kids wandered away then, each one giving Thomas a lingering look before they walked off.**

**Thomas folded his arms, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Emptiness ate away at his insides, quickly replaced by a sadness that hurt his heart. It was all too much – where was he? What was this place? Was it some kind of prison? If so, why had he been sent here, and for how long? The language was odd, and none of the boys seemed to care whether he lived or died.**

“That ain’t it Greenie.” Everyone was surprised that it was Gally speaking up. “We don’t like it when Gladers die, but if we mope, we won’t get nothing done.”

Thomas was too surprised to answer.

**Tears threatened again to fill his eyes, but he refused to let them come.**

**“What did I do?” he whispered, not really meaning for anyone to hear him. “What did I do – why’d they send me here?”**

**Newt clapped him on the shoulder. “Greenie, what you’re feelin’ we’ve all felt it. We’ve all had First Day, come out of that dark box. Things are bad, they are, and they’ll get much worse for ya soon, that’s the truth. But down the road a piece, you’ll be fightin’ true and good. I can tell you’re not a bloody sissy.”**

**“Is this a prison?” Thomas asked; he dug in the darkness of his thoughts, trying to find a crack to his past.**

**“Done asking four questions, haven’t ya?” Newt replied. “No good answers for ya, not yet, anyway. Best be quiet now, accept the change – morn comes tomorrow.”**

**Thomas said nothing, his head sunk, his eyes staring at the cracked, rocky ground. A line of small-leafed weeds ran along the edge of one of the stone blocks, tiny yellow flowers peeping through as if searching for the sun, long disappeared behind the enormous wall of the Glade.**

**“Chuck’ll be a good fit for ya,” Newt said. “Wee little fat shank,**

“Hey!”

**But nice sap when all’s said and done. Say here, I’ll be back.”**

**Newt had barely finished his sentence when a sudden, piercing scream ripped through the air. High and shrill, the barely human shriek echoed across the stone courtyard; every kid in sight turned to look toward the source. Thomas felt his blood turn to icy slush as he realized that the horrible sound came from the wooden building.**

“Yet you still decided to poke around.”

**Even Newt had jumped as if startled, his forehead creasing in concern.**

**“Shuck it,” he said. “Can’t the bloody Med-jacks handle that boy for ten minutes without needin’ my help?” He shook his head and lightly kicked Thomas on the foot. “Find Chuckie, tell him he’s in charge of your sleepin’ arrangements.” And then he turned and headed in the direction of the building, running.**

**Thomas slid down the rough face of the tree until he sat on the ground again; he shrank back against the bark and closed his eyes, wishing he could wake up from this terrible, terrible dream.**

“That’s the end of the chapter,” Frypan said.

Before any of the other Gladers could volunteer to read, Jorge interrupted.

“Brenda’ll read.”

Brenda glared at him but picked up the book and found the right page.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you hated this cause I know I sure did!


End file.
